


An Ecstasy of Fumbling

by westernredcedar



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Infidelity, M/M, Non-magical AU, Open Relationship, Post-WWI, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-01-08
Updated: 2009-01-08
Packaged: 2017-11-09 02:22:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/450201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/westernredcedar/pseuds/westernredcedar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After eight years together, Remus needs something or someone to shake up his relationship with Severus. In the aftermath of war, how do two people find themselves, and each other, again?</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Ecstasy of Fumbling

**Author's Note:**

> The title is from the Wilfred Owen poem "Dulce et Decorum est." This was written for nehalenia at Snupin Santa 2008. Thanks to my more-than-beta blpaintchart, who basically made this fic happen from beginning to end.

“Will there be anything more…Sir?” the young man asked, rising from his knees and wiping his mouth with the back of his tanned hand. The cocky tilt of his eyebrow emphasized that the last word had come out as an afterthought.

Remus Lupin shook himself, attempting to regain his balance. The rough exterior boards of the garden shed were digging into his back and his trousers would develop creases unless he moved soon, as they were crumpled down around his knees. He shivered when he noticed the cool air on his bare skin.

“Mr. Lupin!” A distant female voice called from the direction of the house. Both of their heads turned towards the sound. “Mr. Lupin!” Closer.

Damn damn damn. Remus grappled his drawers and trousers up and shoved in his shirt tails in a rush of panic. “No, that will be all today,” he stuttered, unable to look the young man in the eye as he pulled his braces back over his shoulders and snapped them into place.

“I’ll get back to the mulch, then, shall I?”

Remus raked his shaking hands through his hair. He’d been sweating. “Yes, yes. As you were. That’s fine. Thank you, Charlie.” Damn, he should not have said thank you. He sounded pathetic.

The young man’s muscular arms descended against the shed on either side of Remus's body, trapping him, red hair and blue eyes and the smell of sweet, pungent soil inescapable. Remus stilled for a moment, pulled in by those eyes.

“Any time,” the young man whispered, leaning in and licking Remus’s neck from shoulder to ear. “Sir.”

Damn.

Damn damn damn.

“Mr. Lupin!”

“Ta.” The young man sauntered off, grabbing his wheelbarrow as he went. Whistling.

Damn.

Remus took a final moment to recompose himself, adjusting his trousers, checking the buttons on his shirt, rolling up his cuffs, which had somehow become dirty, before he took a deep breath and emerged from around the shed.

“Mr. Lupin!” It was Mrs. Weasley, Severus’s housekeeper, toddling down the lawn toward him.

“Just taking a turn in the gardens, Mrs. Weasley,” Remus sputtered, knowing his face was red, his hands shaking. If she noticed anything out of the ordinary, Mrs. Weasley was far too experienced to show any indication.

“There you are, sir! There is a telephone call for you up at the house from Mr. Snape. I'm afraid he’s in one of his moods, so I would hurry if I were you.” The Weasleys had been with the Snape family for a long time, and she was amongst the privileged few who could tease without recrimination.

“Thank you, Mrs. Weasley. I’ll just run ahead then.” Terrified, panicked energy coursing through his blood, Remus took off at a full sprint towards the house.

He had to run past the young man where he worked, shirt unbuttoned at the throat, spreading mulch beneath a large fuchsia, just where Remus had encountered him a short while before. He looked as if he’d been there the entire time, no hint of the indiscretion in between.

Except that the young man glanced up and had the audacity to smile and nod in Remus’s direction.

Damn.

He ran hard to the house, back to Severus.

* * *

Severus Snape was phoning to say he would be home by one o’clock, as his business was taking longer than he had anticipated.

Mrs. Weasley was correct. The man on the other end of the telephone wire was snappish and cold, and cut the conversation short just when Remus had been about to say something like, “I look forward to seeing you,” or “We’ll have supper after the ceremony, just the two of us,” or simply, “Please hurry back.” But the connection had already been broken.

His hands trembled as he dressed himself for the afternoon. Mrs. Weasley had aired and pressed his regimentals and hung them out for him. All he needed to add was his Distinguished Service Order and he was ready for the yearly task of public remembrance. The buttons refused to cooperate and slipped from his fingers. He could scarcely bear to look at himself in the mirror once he was dressed, and when he was finally able to meet his own eyes in the glass, all he could see was himself, rapt with pleasure, as he’d come in hard pulses down that young man’s throat.

Damn.

Still shaking, Remus crept out of his room and down the corridor to the cupboard in the extra guest bedroom. Digging under some blankets, he extracted a battered wooden box, set it in his lap, and began pulling out packets of old letters one by one.

_24 December, 1916  
Severus,  
We are dug in at our new location. You would be fascinated by our work here. I can reveal no more, except that we are still in France. Suffice it to say that I am pleased with this assignment, and the boys are as chipper as a troop of bone-weary men on Christmas Eve can possibly be. Powell led us in a bit of a cabaret last night at our camp. You do not want to know the details; enough to know that there was, at one point, a CanCan. The event made showcase nights at Harrow seem like the bloody West End, but we are all in a cheerful mood today because if it.  
Your letter arrived on Thursday, just after 8 o'clock in the morning, in the event you wondered. I'm full of words for you that my weary fingers refuse to write. I shall save them up for home.  
Happy Christmas.  
Yours, Remus_

The paper was brittle and thin and flecks of mud, little spatters of France, stood out against his own broad handwriting.

The war had been over for five years, but in moments of difficulty, Remus had a habit of crouching against the doorframe of this cupboard and re-reading their letters to each other until his eyes watered and his soul was calmed.

This morning certainly qualified as a moment of difficulty. The memory of what he had done with the young man made his stomach ache.

He unfolded the next letter.

_31 December, 1916  
Lupin,  
I anticipate news that your holiday passed without incident, as mine did. I believe you know me well enough to understand that coming from me a traditional wish of Happy Christmas falls rather flat, so I will not burden you with an attempt. The new year is upon us, and I expect it to make little difference in any of our circumstances.  
You are correct to assume that I do not wish any further details about your cabaret. I shudder to think what talent you might have chosen to display…_

“Lupin, unless you wish to be late, get yourself downstairs at once.” Severus Snape’s dark head appeared in the doorway for a moment before disappearing, along with the rest of him, down the corridor.

All of the blood drained from Remus’s brain into his toes, and he hastily returned the letter to the box.

“Severus! I didn’t hear you come in,” Remus called after him, shutting the box and shoving it away under the pile of blankets. He closed the cupboard door before trotting off after the lanky figure striding away from him, hoping his stubborn blush could be explained away by the emotion of the day.

“What were you doing in there?” Severus asked, not turning around.

“Going through some old papers,” Remus replied, catching him up and falling into step. “Nothing important. How was your meeting?” He could hear the unnatural lilt in his voice. He needed to calm down.

Severus stopped and turned to Remus, brows pulled together in a tight bridge. “Is something the matter?” he asked, in his cool, prying tone.

Remus did not let his eyes drift from Severus’s angular face as he replied, perhaps a moment too quickly, “No, no, of course not.”

The frown lingered in Severus’s eyes for another moment before his expression returned to an everyday tired and sour. His looked Remus up and down in an appraising sort of way. “The uniform still fits,” he muttered, and reached out to gently adjust Remus’s collar and run a soft hand over the skin of Remus’s throat.

Damn.

“Severus, I…”

But Severus had already started off down the corridor again. “We don’t want to be late, Lupin,” he said. Remus swallowed the words that had almost escaped from his mouth, and followed.

* * *

A large crowd of alumni, family, and friends had gathered around the war memorial for the Armistice Day ceremony at Harrow. After a stressful drive into town, racing the clock, Remus and Severus were late enough that all of the chairs had been claimed, and they were forced to stand at the rear of the crowd. Remus did not mind. He hated this day, hated the ugly memorial they were all gathered around, and hated the solemn, tiresome prayers and speeches.

He remembered. Every day. He didn’t need a special holiday for it.

He suspected Severus, with his civilian clothes and stiff spine, felt similarly, for a very different reason. They’d never spoken of it, though, and attending the ceremony at their old school had become an annual habit. It was, after all, _what one does_. They'd skipped the morning services in the church, neither of them having had much use for the church in the past several years, but the public ceremony at the memorial they could scarcely avoid. Everyone they knew, or rather, everyone they knew who was still alive, attended.

Remus let his attention wander during the speeches, full of empty words about heroism, country, sacrifice. Until the day someone stood up and said, “These boys sat in a miserable hole in the mud until they woke up one day to be killed,” Remus was not ready to listen to any of it. His eyes drifted around the solemn crowd for familiar faces, his attention drawn back into the ceremony only when the Headmaster started the recitation of the names of the Harrow boys who had been killed during the war.

There were many names familiar to Remus and Severus. If it would not have been frowned upon, Remus would have leaned against his companion as the list was read. He tried to take comfort in the light brush of their arms against each other.

The hardest names to hear came in the middle of the list, two of Remus’s closest chums from school who never came home from France: _Peter Pettigrew_ , who was honoured on the memorial, but whom everyone quietly knew had been shot while attempting to desert, and _James Potter_ , Remus’s first school friend, killed in the chaos of the first day at The Somme.

If those names were difficult to hear, harder to bear was the knowledge that so many casualties could not be carved into the memorial, were not read on this day. They were the walking dead: Regulus Black, Severus's dorm mate and friend, shell shocked and unresponsive for these five years, locked away with a private nurse at their family manor; his brother Sirius, whom Remus could not think of without his stomach clenching in grief, thought to have deserted and turned traitor, but actually taken prisoner at Gallipoli and held under conditions he had still refused to describe to anyone. Home now, Sirius was a thin, restless shell of the confident, lusty man he had been, haunting his family home like a drink-addled ghost.

These names were not read.

_They could be reading my name_ , Remus reminded himself, and once more the guilty weight of surviving threatened to crush him. Some days, like today, Remus wondered if he was a casualty himself, wondered who or what he would be without the war. He ran a finger along the scars on his cheek and looked over at Severus, whose jaw pulsed as the names of the heroic dead were read into the solemn silence. Last year, Severus had actually cut his palms with his fingernails during the ceremony, his fists were gripped so tight.

_We are both casualties_ , Remus thought, _whether we are carved into the memorial or not_.

The final prayer came to its quiet conclusion, and the crowd dispersed into small clusters of friends and acquaintances. A murmur of sombre voices filled the quadrangle. Remus took the opportunity to rest one hand on Severus's shoulder, the brief contact settling his nerves after the difficulty of the ceremony and the confusion of the morning.

“Any better than last year?” he asked Severus quietly.

“No,” Severus replied.

Remus sighed, then nodded. He was correct. Nothing was getting any better, nothing. His mind was incongruously flooded with images of the young man kneeling in front of him that morning against the garden shed, the first time in months that Remus had felt anything close to release. He drew away from Severus as if these thoughts would burn him.

"Darling!" A tall woman in an elegant blue frock and fur wrap pushed through the crowd towards them.

She was patrician and stiff, her mouth frozen in a permanent moue of distaste. Walburga Black had been intimate with the Snape family for years, and maintained a social acquaintance with Severus even after her sons' tragedies. Over the years, it had become evident that she preferred to act as if both Severus and her eldest son had never had the bad taste to befriend Remus Lupin, scholarship student and nobody. Remus was used to her speaking to Severus as if he was not standing right next to him.

"Walburga," Severus acknowledged.

“Severus, darling, I hear you intend to throw a magnificent party at Princefield next month.” Remus was amused by the fact that Walburga’s voice seemed to actually come out of her nose.

“I never intend anything to be magnificent, Walburga, as you well know, but we-- I am hosting an intimate gathering at the house next month,” Severus admitted, sparing a glance in Remus’s direction. “Naturally you will be included amongst the guests.”

Clasping Severus by the arm, Walburga steered him toward the path, away from Remus. "So, when is it?" Remus took a calming breath and followed.

“December the fifteenth, weekend.”

“I believe I will be able to attend. Perhaps I will bring someone nice you ought to meet.” She smirked and raised a thin eyebrow.

“That is unnecessary.”

Remus had another sudden flash of the young man kneeling before him that morning. He shook his head to clear it.

Walburga leaned into Severus, so that Remus had to strain to hear her. “Severus, you must concern yourself with appearances you know,” she murmured, her grey eyes locking with Remus’s over Severus’s shoulder.

Severus’s voice took on the particular chill that Remus knew meant danger. “Expect the invitation next week, Walburga. Good day.”

He strode away down the path to the car. Remus hurried after him, avoiding Walburga Black’s narrowed eyes and judgmental glare. Ahead of him, Severus knocked into a crowd of uniformed men who were blocking the path.

“I say! Why are you in such a rush?” asked one of the men, hand to Severus’s chest, stopping him. Remus hurried to Severus’s side.

"Remove your hand." The dangerous edge was still in Severus's voice. Remus moved closer.

"There's no need to be jostling past today," another soldier added.

"It was an accide..." Remus started, but no one heard him.

“This chap here’s forgotten to wear his uniform,” another man sneered, stepping towards Severus, “or...didn’t you ever bother to join up?”

Severus was always pale, even at the height of midsummer, but now he was an icy white.

"Remove. Your. Hand."

"Are they are allowing conchies and cowards to mourn with us now?" the first man asked, his voice harsh. He withdrew his hand and stepped back amongst his friends.

Remus could smell the fight coming, knew he should be stepping in, speaking up, but the raw pain in Severus's stance had him frozen. Later, he could admit to himself that he had no idea what would have happened if they had not been interrupted at that moment.

"Snape!" a commanding voice called. The small crowd turned to the speaker, a tall blond in the formal top hat and frock coat of a member of the House of Lords.

"Malfoy, thank god," Remus muttered. It was the first and only time Remus could remember being glad to see Lucius Malfoy. "Excuse us," he muttered to the men surrounding them, grabbing Severus's elbow and steering him away from the confrontation and towards his old housemate. As a first year in Newlands House, Severus had fagged for Lucius, and, in Remus's opinion, their relationship, even now, almost fifteen years later, had never really changed.

"What was that fuss all about?" Lucius asked in his drawl, eyeing the crowd of uniforms who were moving off down the path.

"Nothing, nothing at all. Afternoon, Lord Malfoy," Remus said, embarrassed at his own flustered voice.

Lucius looked down his long nose at Remus. "Ah, yes. Mr. Lupin, the tutor. And Severus."

Severus remained silent, his dark eyes staring vacantly ahead.

"Aren't you charming today, Severus. What did you two think of my speech? I was quite pleased with it myself," Lucius asked, making a nonchalant adjustment to his sash.

Remus had stopped listening to Lucius's speech after the first empty platitude. "Very inspiring," he lied, keeping one eye fixed on Severus.

"True," Lucius agreed. "As I said, not a day passes when I don't wish my work in politics had not kept me from the front..." Remus ground his teeth and glanced at Severus. Lucius exhaled an exaggerated sigh. "But enough of that-- Now, about this party of yours, Severus..."

* * *

Back at the car, Arthur, Severus's driver, was waiting.

"How was the ceremony, sirs?" he asked, as he opened the door of the Crossley for them to enter.

"Same as always, Arthur." Remus replied with a rueful smile, but Severus remained silent and pale.

Once they were settled in and Arthur had driven off, Severus let his head loll against the seat back, eyes closed, thumbs pressed against his eyelids.

"I loathe this day," he said, and Remus could only nod. He sneaked his arm around Severus's shoulders and was gratified to feel the tense body relax a little with his touch, and lean into him.

"I know," Remus replied with a sigh, but when he placed a gentle kiss on Severus's temple, the other man drew away from him.

"You don't," he said.

* * *

The wooden box contained several letters that had never been sent.

_4 May, 1917  
Lupin,  
Another white feather today, this one accompanied by some creative epithets. Soon I shall have enough to decorate a headdress.  
I am considering having a placard drawn up that I can wear whenever I have to go to town: "I am in charge of my deceased father's chemical plant, where we are currently producing chlorine gas that is hard at work killing the damned Germans, so bloody well leave me alone," but I expect no one would bother to read it. Calling me coward seems to make these biddies feel they are doing something to help the war effort.  
An opportunity has come up that will draw me away from home for several weeks. Do not become concerned if you hear little or nothing from me for the remainder of the month.  
As always,  
SS_

* * *

Supper was intimate, just the two of them, as Remus had hoped. What he had not hoped for, however, was the cool distance between them, or for Severus's continued silence. His mind continued to whirl with images of his cock disappearing into the under-gardener's warm mouth that morning, and Severus's stony reserve was not helping the situation at all.

After Ginny had cleared away the dishes and left the two men alone with their cognac and cigarettes, Remus broke the silence.

"I've been thinking more," he started abruptly, shoving the unwilling words off of his tongue, "about what we discussed last week."

Severus lit a fag and took a long draw. "We discussed many things last week, Lupin. What in particular are you referring to?"

"About my...about me, us...branching out..."

For the first time since the ceremony at Harrow, Severus's dark eyes met Remus's. "Ah. When you asked if you could have my permission to fuck the help."

Remus shut his eyes for a moment as his face flooded with heat. "No, Severus, when I suggested that perhaps we could both...benefit from a little...exploration...with other...Neither us has had much variety...and I...you're so busy...and..."

"Lupin, stop this pathetic stuttering. I agreed to your plan, didn't I?"

Remus nodded and swallowed hard. "I just...wanted to be sure you truly meant it." Remus knew he was playing a dangerous game, because Severus could say no now, and then where would he be? His come had already been down another man's throat.

Remus wasn't sure where the need had come from, but after eight years together, he had awoken one evening in the midst of fucking Severus to realize that he had been going over the next day's schedule of students in his mind rather than paying any attention to the man in front of him.

He was bored. Or Severus was. Or they both were. So much old and unspoken between them, and so little had changed in the years since the war.

"I don't say things I don't mean," Severus finally responded, taking another long drag from his cigarette.

Remus couldn't look at him as he said, "I know. Severus...I..."

"It has been a long day. I'm going to up to bed." Severus stubbed out his fag and drained his glass as he rose from the table. The door to the dining room slammed with extra finality behind him as he walked away.

* * *

Remus left the dinner table in a haze and found his way back to the guest bedroom, where he crouched again in the doorway of the cupboard, stacks of old letters arrayed at his feet. He tried not to dwell on Severus, just down the corridor in his formal, tidy bedroom, and what he must be thinking. Remus pulled out a letter, the one he'd been looking for, well-worn and fingerprint stained.

_25 May, 1917  
Dear Severus,  
I hope this letter finds you, wherever you are. There are few things in this miserable life that cheer me more than receiving a letter from you. I will muddle through while you are away, I suppose.  
Our reason for being here is_

The next parts of this letter had been censored, but Remus could remember what he had written almost word for word. _...almost complete. A battle is at hand, most likely in the next two weeks, and I may not survive it. For many reasons, I am at peace with that possibility, but the one thing that I am not at peace with is that I might..._ His scrawled handwriting reappeared from under the black ink.

_never see you again._

Another large block of text had been censored after that, and Remus blushed to remember the words his CO must have read and inked out so thoroughly. He'd left only one small section untouched, at the very end.

_will not mourn for me long if I am gone. If I have a last moment, I will spend it thinking of you.  
Yours, Remus_

He pulled out the next letter in the box.

_4 June, 1917  
Lupin,  
If you continue to send me letters containing maudlin drivel, please refrain from revealing national secrets that require that your letter be censored.  
I expect you to see me again, and I will not waver from that expectation.  
SS_

Remus tucked the letters away, shut the wooden box, and stowed it in the cupboard, eyes burning, before returning to his rooms.

As Severus's special house guest, he was treated by the staff with the respectful deference reserved for company, and provided with his own quarters adjacent to Severus's rooms. As he did every night, he turned back his bed and messed up the sheets; contrary to Mrs. Black's opinion, Remus and Severus went to great lengths to keep up _appearances._ Then, still fighting an iron ache in his chest, he knocked quietly at the door adjoining his room with Severus's, and did not wait for an invitation before he entered.

As Remus had predicted, Severus was not asleep, but was propped up against his pillows with a book. He did not look up when Remus entered.

"I'm exhausted, Lupin," Severus murmured, and turned a page.

_I will not waver from that expectation._ Remus crossed the room and sat on the edge of Severus's, of _their_ bed, pulled the book out of his lover's hands, and set it on the bedside table.

"I know. So am I," Remus said, and he leaned in to cup Severus's hollow cheeks and kiss him.

After the briefest of hesitations, Severus's thin lips gently molded against his, and deepened Remus's tentative start into a long, soft kiss, not unlike their first, confused fumblings in the dorms at school, years ago.

Remus crawled onto the bed without breaking their kiss, and straddled Severus's still body. His blood heated with the kiss. This was Severus, not some random under-gardener in the shrubbery behind the shed. He reached down to unbutton Severus's pyjama top, needing to feel the cool, smooth skin underneath.

The room was silent as they undressed each other, the habit of years and the confusion of their recent conversation adding an odd strain to the proceedings. To cover the awkwardness, Remus pressed his face into Severus's chest and teased his lips over dark nipples. Severus eased off Remus's shirt, running his fingers through the tangle of hair on Remus's chest and pulling hard. There was no doubt Severus knew what he liked.

Remus could feel Severus's erection growing against his thigh. His own need to feel close, to reconnect with Severus's familiar body, had him hard as well. Without further preamble, Remus lifted himself up in order to encourage the man beneath him to turn over, to open to him, to be fucked. Their routine.

"I need to..." Remus started, his breath coming quickly.

"Lupin, I don't wan..." Severus blurted at the same moment.

Remus froze, flustered. His breath caught in his throat. "You don't...want...?"

Severus's dark eyes locked with Remus's, and in answer, he reached out and fisted Remus's prick. The momentary panic was obliterated by sensation. He groaned. Remus grappled Severus's prick from under the layers of pyjama and bedclothes, and stroked him in return.

"Do you want this?" Remus asked, eyes fixed on Severus's hand stroking him, building him towards climax.

"Yes. Yes," Severus replied in his deep tone, head pressed back against the pillows. Remus sped up, dashing his hand hard and fast.

There was little Remus liked better in the world than watching Severus come, witnessing the open trust in his face, trust that he hid from the world at every other moment of his life. Severus's spasms and moans spiraled Remus over the edge, and his body convulsed as he shot warm spunk over Severus's fist and belly.

Damn. Why the hell had they been doing this so infrequently in recent months? Remus nuzzled his face against Severus's skin, moist with a fine sheen of sweat, as he tried to keep his mind from spinning into why Severus hadn't wanted to fuck. He hugged Severus's thin body closer, relieved that he was being allowed to stay so close.

"Severus, you know, if we did...experiment...it wouldn't mean anything would change, between us," he murmured.

Severus's fingers stopped combing through Remus's hair at his words. "If you truly believe that, you are a fool, Lupin. Of course it will change things between us. I thought that was what you were hoping for. _We need a change_. Isn't that what you said?"

Remus had to nod. He was right. Of course. "You don't like the idea though, do you?" Remus asked, propping his chin up on Severus's chest and meeting his gaze.

"I do not have to like an idea in order to accept it. I suggest you stop talking about it and go to sleep." Severus wriggled himself down further under the covers and turned away from Remus.

"You could...experiment...as well, you know," Remus added, although saying that part of the deal out loud gave him a moments pause. He spooned in along Severus's bony back and ran his fingers along the ridges of his rib cage.

Severus grunted from what sounded like near sleep, but then unexpectedly flipped his shoulders and head around to look at Remus. The intensity of his glare reminded Remus of their old geography master on the day of exams. "No attachments, Lupin. No kissing. And no one in a bed that we have shared. Ever." He turned back and relaxed his body, subtly nesting against Remus. "Good night."

Remus wasn't sure if what he felt was victory or defeat. "Good night, Severus." He kissed the soft skin between Severus's shoulder blades, and closed his eyes, but it was a long time before he fell asleep.

* * *

The following week was grey and rainy, so Remus saw his students, and read, and waited for a day when the drizzle showed signs of slowing before taking another turn around the grounds. Severus had been busy with work, and was up north at the factory for the day. The house was quiet.

Remus found his young man turning compost in the far corner of the garden.

“Charlie?”

The young man looked towards him, and Remus swallowed hard as he watched the shift of muscle and sinew shaping his bare neck and shoulder.

“Yeh? Oh, it's you, is it? Sir.” Charlie stood up and leaned on the handle of his shovel. 

Remus felt a blush creep up his throat as the silence grew between them. Even after thinking about it for weeks now, he could not make his mouth open to voice his desires to this coarse gardener. Just as with the first time, he stopped to wonder what the hell he was doing.

There was something about Charlie’s casual stance and grubby, loose clothing that transported Remus back to the trenches, to the burly and muscled young men under his command, the men whose intimacy had come to mean so much to him, had kept him alive when he had decided it would be better to die.

"I...I have permission," Remus stuttered at last, and managed to meet Charlie's eyes.

Charlie’s red brows raised for a moment. Then he smiled and dropped his shovel.

"I understand, Sir. Where shall we go?"

Remus was silenced again by Charlie's boldness. "Er..."

"I've got a place. Come on," he said with a wink, pulling Remus by the hand through the shrubbery towards the side entrance of the house. His rough calluses ground against Remus’s palm. "Thought you’d been struck dumb. A man of few words, you are."

Remus knew he should insist Charlie call him _Sir_ , that he should stop and ask where they were going, that he should regain control of this situation. He was the lieutenant here, he should be giving the orders. He could not for the life of him remember why he was doing this. Damn.

Charlie did not make any more comments, and released Remus's hand as they entered the servant's quarters. Remus tried to look nonchalant, like he had some official business with the young man as they passed through the kitchen. Luckily, their path was deserted, although Remus told himself he was allowed to go wherever he wanted in this house. He had permission, he thought. Damn it. He had permission.

Charlie's room was tiny as a railway carriage, with a bed and small table and only a few scattered photographs for decoration.

"Not much, is it?" he asked, as he closed the door behind Remus.

Remus could do nothing but stand there stupidly.

"I have to be back in the garden before I am missed," Charlie continued, and Remus was shocked to see that he was quickly removing his shirt. “Get undressed.”

“What…are we…?”

Charlie was pulling off his boots. "I generally find clothing gets in the way," he teased.

Remus's hands were shaking too much to undo his cuffs, so he held them out to Charlie, who laughed and turned the links, brushing his hard fingers over Remus's wrists. "You don't strike me as a bloke who's been wearing silver cufflinks all his life. Am I right?"

Remus wanted to pull away at the young man's insolence, but at the same time felt his cock stiffen at Charlie's touch. "I've worn my share of cufflinks, Mr. Weasley," Remus said in what he hoped was a superior tone.

"Of course you have. Nothing meant by it, Sir. Come on, there's not much time." Charlie pulled off his soil-stained trousers and, now naked, began to open Remus's flies to hurry him along.

Remus had never been completely undressed with any man but Severus, and Charlie's body was a revelation, all muscles and bulges and coarse red hair, where Severus was all long lines and angles and smoothness. Charlie _smelled_ , no _stank_ , of sweat and earth and effort, and something long dormant in Remus wanted to press his nose against his thick, stiff cock and those warm balls and inhale, hard.

He sped up undoing the buttons of his shirt. This was all happening so fast.

Charlie worked Remus's trousers and drawers down below his arse and then pushed him onto the bed so that he could pull off his shoes. Remus finally managed to remove his shirt, and yanked his vest over his head at the same moment that Charlie freed his trousers from his legs. He was naked. Oh, fuck, he was naked and hard and in another man's bed. He would not think of Severus...he would not.

"Those are some scars," Charlie observed, rubbing his fingers along the ropey lines visible through the tangle of hair on Remus's chest. "Where'd you get 'em?"

"Messines," Remus stated flatly. He did not want to think about the war almost as much as he did not want to think about Severus.

"Blimey! A real war hero, eh?"

"Hardly." Remus's blood was pumping at an incredible rate, Charlie's hands on his thighs sending shocks through his skin.

"Lie down."

No _please_ , no _Sir_ , no questions asked, just like the first time, when all Remus had had to do was lean back against the shed and let Charlie tend to him.

Feeling shamefully exposed, Remus reclined onto the small bed, legs extended, propped up on his elbows, his cock lying hard and hot against his belly. Charlie did not waste a moment climbing onto the bed after him, facing the opposite direction, throwing one muscular leg over Remus's shoulders.

"Did you enjoy it last time?" Charlie asked, his mouth inches from Remus's cock, hot breath alone enough to make Remus moan. "Sir?"

Remus didn't know if he would be able to speak. A strangled, "Yes," was all he managed. Charlie's round arse was in his face, his scent overwhelming.

"Good," Charlie replied. "That's how I like it as well."

Charlie's callused hand gripped Remus's cock and then his hot breath became that warm wetness of his mouth, sucking Remus in. Charlie shoved his body back along Remus's chest until his prick was dangling in Remus's face.

This was new. He'd never tried this before. Remus tried to imagine how Severus would look from this angle. The idea was momentarily so distracting that he forgot about what Charlie's tongue was doing, until it started exploring the sensitive ridge of flesh around the head of his cock, and he heard himself groan involuntarily.

Charlie pulled away for a moment and peered back over his shoulder. "You going to do me, or not?"

Damn. Severus was correct. This was going to change things.

He took a deep breath and grabbed Charlie's prick, the first besides Severus's and his own that he had ever touched, and ran the head of this unfamiliar cock against his lips. Charlie bucked in approval. With a swipe of his tongue, he had his first real taste, tangy and salty, so different from Severus's musk, and then that same primal urge he had felt on first catching Charlie's scent hit him, and he pulled the weeping cock into his mouth with his tongue, breathing in his heavy stink.

His actions encouraged Charlie to speed the steady pumping of Remus's cock, and Remus wanted to throw his head back and moan, but he couldn't, as his mouth was occupied. He scratched his fingernails across Charlie's back.

The angles were awkward, but it only took the young man's hand cupping his balls and Remus felt himself give way, coming in hard jolts into Charlie's mouth. In imitation, Remus reached around and tugged on Charlie's tight sac as he sucked him hard. At the first salty taste of come, Remus pulled away and the young man poured himself all over Remus's chest and neck.

Damn. Damn damn damn.

Charlie rolled off of Remus, still dripping and panting, wiping his face. He looked back at Remus and laughed, a rich, good-humored laugh.

"You're a mess. Sir."

The first rule: _No attachments._ Remus suspected he was in no danger of falling for Charlie the under-gardener, but that laugh was charming, and this would have to end here, just in case.

Returning with a hand towel, Charlie mopped up Remus's chest. "I'd best be getting back before I'm missed."

Remus sat up. "Charlie, that was..." He couldn't find the words.

"It's alright, Sir. You don't have to say anything." Charlie tossed the towel away and reached for his shirt.

Remus's heart was slowly settling back to its usual steady rhythm. "I don't think we should do this again," he said in a rush. "But I had a...lovely time." Damn.

Charlie grinned. "The old man said you could only have one go, eh? I understand."

Remus flushed at Charlie's casual mention of his relationship with Severus. He was never completely sure what the staff believed about them. "I shouldn't...with any one person more than once or twice I think. That's the agreement."

Remus's skin was already itchy with Charlie's come, dried and matted in the thick hair on his chest. He needed a bath before Severus returned.

"So, you'll be looking for other blokes who like this sort of thing?" Charlie asked as he stepped into his trousers.

"Um..." Remus had not given any thought to his next experiment.

Charlie sat down on the bed next to Remus in order to pull on his boots. "Because I know a place. I could take you there, if you wanted. There are men there that I think you would...like."

To mask the jolt of excitement that ran through his body at the idea of strangers, strange men, with him, Remus hopped up from the bed and reached for his trousers. "I don't know," he said, hoping his voice was steady.

Charlie, fully dressed and waiting at the door, let out another good-natured laugh. "Well, if you decide you want to, you know where to find me."

Remus hurried to button his shirt, grabbing his cufflinks from the table and shoving them in his pocket. Charlie approached him and reached around to button his braces, standing far too close. Remus drew back from the heat of Charlie's body. He needed to get out of this room.

"Perhaps," he muttered, shoving on his shoes, avoiding Charlie's casual touch. "I'll go out first, why don't I?" He grabbed the doorknob and ran out before Charlie could respond.

"Until later then," Charlie shouted out after him.

Remus turned the corner, and almost crashed into little Ginny Weasley, carrying a pile of laundry down the corridor. His breath stopped as he met her curious gaze.

"That's 'Until later then, _Sir_ ', Mr. Weasley," he shouted back, still staring wide-eyed at Ginny. Then he ducked his head down, and dashed away.

* * *

Severus didn't notice anything.

Remus was washed and dried and anxiously awaiting his return a few hours later, unable to play or read or do anything but pace and stare out the window. When Severus strode in the door, it took all of Remus's strength not to fling himself into his arms in front of the entire household and confess.

He thought Severus would know, would be able to taste or smell or see the other man on him, but he brushed past Remus with only a short, "Good evening, Lupin," and brief hand to his shoulder, before collapsing into his leather chair in the library with his newspaper, a sour expression on his face.

Shaking, Remus walked to the library and leaned against the door frame, hands in his pockets. "Difficult day?" he asked.

Severus looked up then and snapped, "Everyone I work with is an incompetent fool."

"That sounds awful." Remus stepped into the library.

"I do not want to talk about it," Severus replied, burying his nose in his paper.

Remus perched on the arm of Severus's chair and ran tentative fingers through his thin, black hair. It needed a wash and trim. Severus closed his eyes and leaned into his touch for a moment. "Why don't we talk about something else, then?" Remus suggested, and then dropped his voice to a whisper, "Or perhaps we should go to bed early, tonight?" He let his hand linger against the soft skin below Severus's ear for just a moment.

Severus opened his eyes and looked up at him then with a stern, questioning glance, and Remus thought, _that was too bold. He knows_ , and his heart accelerated. But Severus's expression quickly eased back into exhaustion. "Supper, I think, and then sleep, Lupin." He pulled away from Remus's touch and returned to reading.

A rush of unreasonable anger flooded through Remus's body, and he flushed a deep red. "I'll tell Mrs. Weasley to get supper ready," he muttered, standing and walking out the door, adding an extra briskness to his step, hoping Severus would notice his shifting mood.

Severus let him go.

Damn. He'd talk to Charlie the next day about that _place_ he'd mentioned. Walking down the corridor, he slammed his fist into the wall, and walked on.

* * *

_5 February, 1917  
Lupin,  
Your last letter arrived on Thursday. How anyone can remain as cheerful as you while engaged in armed combat remains a mystery. I assume your good spirits are indicative of the fact that your work proceeds without difficulty, but knowing you as I do, I suspect you and your men are currently digging latrines while under heavy bombardment and you are still shining a positive light on your circumstances. Your optimism is troubling, as always.  
You asked for news, and I'm afraid I have little to report. Work continues , but I'll say no more about that. The Weasley's eldest son has just returned home, severely wounded in the face by shrapnel at Delville Wood. He is recuperating at Princefield. The surprise is that he has brought along his war bride, a French woman who is, to his family's great shock, with child. As you can imagine, this has incited insipid, hushed conversations in the corridors at all hours. The gossip has the entire household fascinated, myself excepted. I inform you only as you asked (and because for some reason you always seem to care about these things).  
I've had word from Walburga Black, but there is no further news of her sons.  
When there is more to tell you, I shall.  
As always,  
SS_

_27 February, 1917  
Dear Severus,  
That is some news about Bill Weasley. When does this scandalous child arrive? Please wish them all well, and I hope for your sake the family drama ends without your being forced to partake in any of the gossip. Or, god forbid, have to comfort anyone._

Here Remus's eyes blurred, and he had to put the letter down for a moment. There was a break in the text and when the note started again, his handwriting was quite different, as if some time had passed.

_Severus. Something's happened. To me. Since I wrote the above. I'm not hurt, or at least, not much, so don't fuss yourself on that account. ~~However, I've never wanted to see a person more than I want to see you this moment.~~  
My hand is shaking, so I'd best stop writing. Don't worry. Perhaps I shouldn't send this letter. But I think something fundamental in me is altered, and I ~~want~~ need you to know that it's happened.  
Yours, Remus_

* * *

Charlie's _place_ turned out to be a club in town, shockingly normal, except for the fact that they had to know that it existed behind a plain black door, that they had to knock the prescribed number of times to be admitted, and that the dark, smoke-filled room was filled with nervous men with their heads down who came and went like fluttering moths, gulping drinks, meeting eyes, and disappearing into the back. There was the scent of desperation and terror in the place, mingling with the alcohol and cigarettes.

Remus had not asked Charlie how he had learned of this place, or how often he had visited in the past. Charlie had explained the rules in a hushed whisper on the train in: no names, no money (there were other places to go if you wanted to pay), and no trouble.

"It's not a common crowd," Charlie said. "I don't know why they let a bloke like me in there."

Eyeing Charlie's compact and muscular body in the seat opposite him, Remus had little doubt as to why.

During his first visit, Remus'd been tended to by an erudite man with glasses who'd reminded him of his old chum James; the next, he'd sucked off a small, eager gentleman in top hat and tails whose face he'd hardly been able to make out in the dim light.

Each time, he returned to a complacent and silent Severus, and each time his irrational anger grew. How could Severus not feel the other men on his skin, how could he accept his weak excuses about needing to go to town to collect books for his students, how could he not _know_ that Remus was going through with what he had asked ? _How could he?_

During his third visit, Remus sneaked into town without Charlie, riding a crest of unaccountable rage. At the club, he became aware that a burly soldier, in uniform no less, his lips full and red, was watching him through the haze. Remus let his eyes linger just long enough. The man slowly made his way to Remus's side, leaned against the wall, and then out of the corner of his mouth murmured words that froze Remus's blood.

"I've seen you here before."

Panicked, Remus drained his glass and walked away from the man and out the door without looking back. How had he let himself take such risks? His behaviour could be made public. He could be blackmailed if he was recognized. It could ruin him, he'd never have another student. Worse still, it could ruin Severus.

He pulled up his collar and dashed back to King's Cross, guilt, fear, and anger warring in him, making him bristle and fume. He needed to fuck someone, hard. He strode on.

* * *

_28 March, 1917  
Lupin,  
This is war. We have all changed, and we all have secrets now.  
SS_

* * *

The intimate holiday gathering for close friends had exploded into a weekend-long house party for almost twenty. Princefield could hardly hold all of the guests, and Remus was in no mood for company. He and Severus had spent the week circling around each other, avoiding talk of anything but the party, and now Remus just wanted to be alone. Instead he was playing cards with two people who usually ignored his existence.

"Severus, wherever did you find your delicious grounds staff, and where can I get my own?" Walburga Black was peering out the window. Remus followed her gaze to catch sight of Charlie dragging a cut evergreen towards the house. The party would be decorating the tree later in the evening.

"The help, Walburga? " Lucius Malfoy intoned. "Surely you do not need to stoop to such common devices to find satisfaction."

Remus shifted in his chair at the remark, but covered his discomfort by discarding an eight of clubs.

"Gin," he said, laying our his cards. The other players groaned as Remus stood with his drink and walked away from the table.

The few intimates they had intended to invite- two of Remus's fellow teachers, one of his former students, one of Severus's partners at the plant- were now overshadowed and relegated to the edges of the room by the invasion of Blacks and Malfoys who dominated conversation at every moment, and frustrated all attempts at encouraging their early departure.

Walburga, as threatened, had invited her son Sirius and her young cousin, Dora Tonks-Black, to join her for the weekend. Poor Dora, undoubtedly by design, had made a few futile attempts at engaging Severus in conversation the first evening, only to be on the receiving end of some of the most creative insults Remus had ever heard him spew. In fact, Severus's brutal rejection of her offered respectability was one of the first times in the past month that Remus had felt some spark of hope. He'd found himself grinning to himself for several minutes, wanting to pull Severus aside, tell him everything that had happened, and begging that life return to normal between them. It was an impossible wish, but it was a pleasant change to desire it again, even for a moment.

Remus took pity on the poor girl, and invited her to sit with him during supper. She'd seemed a bit too pleased with the idea for Remus's liking.

Sirius Black, tidied up and relatively lucid for the occasion, spent the evening reclined in one of Severus's deep wingback chairs, drinking, his long legs kicked out into the room like a challenge.

He had been one of Remus's closest friends before the war, and Remus could still read his body language, restless and dangerous, even after all the years and all the separation. His glare was fixed on Severus for most of the evening. Remus approached him carefully, taking the seat nearby.

He had kissed Sirius, three times, during school. Before Severus. He eyed Sirius's full lips now and wondered who else those lips had kissed. Sirius had always had plenty of admirers, before.

"What was Snape doing during the war again, Remus?" Sirius asked suddenly, between slugs of whiskey.

"He worked in...chemistry," Remus replied. Severus had never given him permission to tell anyone what the the plant had been producing. He looked across the room at Severus, unfashionably long hair draped in his face, sour sneer directed at Lucius, who appeared to be delivering a prepared speech, complete with fist pounding.

"Chemistry?" Sirius snorted. "Poor excuse."

Remus sat up to grab his own drink and sip it. "It wasn't, actually."

"Sounds like a job for a cowardly nancy who was afraid to fight."

Remus's glance darted around the room quickly, but no one else had heard Sirius's comment. He leaned closer to encourage his old friend to lower his voice. "You shouldn't say things like that, Sirius."

Sirius leaned closer as well, and Remus could smell the whiskey on his breath. "What? Things like the truth?"

Remus noticed at that moment that Severus had turned and was watching them from across the sitting room. A worried expression, like he was realising he might have missed something obvious, was painted across his long face.

Remus looked back at Sirius, handsome, wild Sirius Black, and then back at Severus.

Damn. Severus was noticing. Finally. Remus's body was flooded with adrenaline, his heart suddenly thumping like a kettle drum.

Remus leaned closer to Sirius, sure Severus was still watching, and whispered in his ear. "Follow me out into the corridor, Sirius."

Sirius raised an eyebrow. "Now?" he whispered back, but when Remus stood, Sirius did as well, and sauntered behind him out of the sitting room. Remus could feel Severus's eyes on them as they went. Good.

However, once they were alone, Remus realised he had not through this plan any further than the doorway.

"Where are you taking me?" Sirius asked, looking around the darkened corridor and then pointing back at the sitting room. "I've left my drink..."

"I want to...show you something," Remus fibbed, and continued to walk, leading him towards the library. He was not sure if Severus would follow them out, and he did not want to be caught standing pathetically in the front hall without reason.

"Show me something, eh?" Sirius replied, brows raised. Remus ignored his pointed look.

"Yes."

"I see."

A fire had been built in the library, in anticipation that some guests might retire there later in the evening. The room was cozy and smelled of old paper, and Severus. Remus shut the door behind them as he ushered Sirius in.

"Er..." Remus stuttered, peering around at the shelves of books for some reason to have led Sirius there.

"I thought you'd be over all of this," Sirius said boldly, "by now."

Remus looked at him, confused. "Over what?"

"Your...preferences." Sirius sidled towards him, his eyes a rather malevolent shade of grey. "Fuck, Remus, that isn't why you're staying here with that creep Snape, is it? Not that greasy coward?" He was very close now.

"I don't know what you..." Remus started, but Sirius leaned in then, and kissed him, hard and definite. The kiss was just like back at school, only it was evident that he had indeed kissed many others in the years between. Remus resisted for a moment, but then found that plan to be entirely impossible.

_I have permission,_ he thought. _I have fucking permission._ The spark of boldness that had flared in Remus when he'd seen Severus watching them talk roared into a blaze. He grabbed Sirius's head between his hands and shoved him back against the bookshelves, knocking several volumes to the floor, deepening the kiss, and prying at Sirius's mouth with his teeth and tongue.

A stern voice in Remus's head murmured, _no kissing, no kissing_ , but the roar of blood in his ears drowned it out and he ground against the lean, wiry body in front of him. Sirius tasted stale, like old cigarettes, like autumn leaves. He didn't care. Fuck Severus.

They didn't break apart until they heard the loud bang of the library door slamming closed.

Their heads turned together towards the door.

"Was someone just there? Who was it? Did you see?" Remus sputtered, breathless. Damn. Damndamndamn.

Sirius was silent, a little wild grin on his face, and for a moment Remus could see the cords of sanity that had been stretched thin by his years of imprisonment, that were so close to snapping. What the hell was he doing?

"We should get back to the party," Remus said, releasing Sirius and stepping away, attempting to slow his pulse. _Breathe, Remus._ Damn. He wanted to run, far away from all of this. He couldn't breathe. Who had been watching? Damn. Remus backed into the doorknob, grappling with it for a moment before he managed to pull the door open.

Severus was leaning against the opposite wall of the corridor, arms crossed, exuding a cool calm.

Damn.

"Did you two get lost?" he drawled.

"Severus..." Remus said in a hush.

"Why don't you toddle back to your mother, Black? I believe she's looking for you." Only then did Remus notice that Sirius had followed him to the door and was standing at his elbow.

"Severus..." Remus said again, but faltered when Sirius brushed past him and dropped a casual kiss on his lips before swaggering down the corridor and back to the party without another word.

The silence then was long.

"Severus..."

"No kissing, Lupin." Severus's voice was empty, like a cavern.

The unreasonable anger resumed its boil under Remus's skin. "I know." He wanted to hit something.

"No attachments."

"Severus, I haven't seen Sirius for years. Nothing else has happened between us." Remus tried to keep his voice low. He could hear laughter erupt from the party down the corridor.

"Ah." At this casual syllable of acceptance, something in Remus finally snapped.

"However, as you suddenly seem to care," Remus felt the words hiss out him before he could stop himself, "you'll be pleased to know I've found a number of other cocks more than willing to participate in our agreement."

Severus did not move an inch. "I do not believe I asked."

"No, of course you didn't ask. You don't give a toss if I'm fucking half the staff and every lost soul in London, do you?" Remus had to pause to lower his voice and breathe, heat flooding his face.

"I thought that was what you requested." Severus's face was like marble, his calm driving Remus to new heights of fury.

"It bloody well was!" he exploded, and then stepped back and let the next words whisper out from between his teeth. "But you could pretend to give a damn about it. Maybe play along, or come with me. Find someone for yourself, even!"

At his last words, the faintest hint of a smile touched the corners of Severus's wide mouth, and froze Remus's heart. "Who says I have not done that already, Lupin?"

Damn.

Damn damn damn. It was like being punched in the chest. The air left Remus's lungs and refused to return. He could only stare at the laconic man across the corridor as if he had just announced he was leaving in the morning for the Moon.

"What?"

"The agreement went both ways, Lupin. Finding an acceptable sideline is not difficult, as you know." Severus pulled himself up from leaning against the wall and turned towards the sitting room. "We should return to our guests, who assuredly will be wondering at our absence. Come."

"Wait. Severus." Severus did not stop.

"I'll ask Lucius to deal another hand of Gin," Severus said over his shoulder as he walked into the noise and bustle of the sitting room, leaving Remus stranded in the darkened corridor. He couldn't move, could hardly see. His breath had not returned.

Severus had been with someone else, and he'd had no idea. Not even an inkling. He ground his teeth together, hard.

Charlie brushed past him just then, from behind, hauling the evergreen tree over one shoulder and whistling _God Rest Ye, Merry Gentleman_.

"Evening," Charlie said, with a nod and a wink, but Remus could only stare at the vacant space where Severus had been, as Charlie's cheerful tune echoed in the empty hall.

* * *

_10 April, 1917  
Dear Severus,  
I am much improved since my last letter. In fact, I confess to a touch of embarrassment at my last outburst to you. I am myself again, and work here proceeds as before._

Censored blocks of text filled the page. Only one sentence more remained uncovered.

_You are correct about one thing, though. We all keep secrets.  
Yours, Remus_

* * *

The crowded sitting room had taken on a sinister air when Remus finally forced himself to return. Every man in the place was suddenly Severus's secret lover, every glance in Severus's direction was a flirtation, every word said to him an innuendo. He itched with the need to know what Severus had been doing, exactly, when, with who, how much, how hard, how long, how...

Malfoy, perhaps?

Remus lit a fag and sank into the sofa in the far corner of the room, eyes fixed on Severus as he casually, maddeningly mingled amongst their guests.

Was that a knowing glance between Severus and Sirius? Damn.

Damn. Remus's earlier pleasant, whiskey-and-good-company warmth was now a sickening, leaden churning in his gut. How could he have failed to anticipate this reaction? How had he ever thought that any of this was a good idea?

"Are you enjoying the party, Mr. Lupin?" a friendly voice intoned, and Remus turned to see that Dora Tonks-Black was perched on the other end of the sofa, holding two glasses of champagne.

Remus forced his face into a smile and stubbed out his cigarette. "Yes," he managed. "You?" Severus was speaking to Charlie now, where he was setting up the tree. Could it be that Charlie was servicing them both? Fuck.

"Quite a fun crowd," Dora replied, and then lowered her voice, "except perhaps for our disagreeable host, don't you think?" She held out one of the champagne flutes with a grin. "I saw the two of you talking and imagined that you could probably do with a drink."

Remus paused in his stewing to look at the woman seated beside him. The expression on her heart-shaped face was open and honest and eager, and her mouth and eyes were charmingly similar to Sirius's.

A woman, he thought suddenly. That would burn Severus up.

"Thanks," he replied with a smile, reaching for the champagne. Unfortunately, Dora was offering the glass at just the wrong angle, and their hands met and knocked the entire contents onto Remus's trousers.

"Crikey!" Dora said with a shout. Remus reached quickly for a napkin to sop up the cool liquid from where it was seeping onto his thighs, and Dora had ripped off her scarf and was attempting to use it to dry Remus's lap as well.

It took them both a moment to realise that she had her small hands all over his crotch. "Oh no! Oh damn!" she squealed, dropping her scarf and covering her face with her hands.

Remus felt himself starting to shake with laughter. "Don't worry, Miss Tonks-Black. You were only trying to help," he said, and noticed that Severus was looking over at them, along with most of the room, to see what all the shouting was about. Severus was standing a step too close to Lucius Malfoy, and Remus felt a renewed surge of jealousy that made his skin itch. He laughed even harder, and moved closer to Dora on the sofa.

Knowing that Severus was watching them made him bold, and he placed a comforting hand on Dora's shoulder and with his other hand touched a thin lock of her hair. She peered out from behind her hands at his touch, surprise cutting short her embarrassment, and then looked up at him with an intensely hopeful gaze.

Damn. What the hell was he doing?

Remus never got to find out, for at that moment, the party was interrupted by a steady knocking at the front door.

"Ah. At last! Our surprise is here, Severus!" Walburga turned her long nose towards the door.

Remus broke away from the dangerous girl sitting next to him, although he could feel her keen eyes follow him as he stood.

They could hear the bustle of Mrs. Weasley hurrying through the front hall to admit the surprise guest. Remus skin tingled and across the room his eyes locked with Severus's. For a moment the entire party melted away and all Remus could see were Severus's dark eyes, boring into him in challenge.

The room had grown quiet in anticipation of the social rearrangement that would be required with a new member of the party.

Only when the new guest appeared did Severus break their gaze.

A gaunt, black-haired young man stood in the doorway, leaning heavily on a cane. Although he was a shadow of his former self, the straight nose and big, dark eyes were unmistakable. It was Regulus Black.

"Darling!" Walburga sprang to her feet and draped her arm around her younger son. She beamed out at the gathering with a haughty smile. "My son," she announced. "He's recovered! Isn't it wonderful?" There was a general murmur of surprise in the room.

Remus was still staring at Severus, and his heart dropped to his toes at the look of honest joy that passed over Severus's stern face when he saw Regulus. Regulus gave a small nod to the crowd, but his eyes searched out and then fixed on Severus.

Remus's brittle nerves shattered.

It was Severus, _Severus_ , who was the first person to stand and embrace Regulus, handsome, intelligent Regulus. Regulus who had been Severus's only other lover. Regulus, the only man besides Remus that Severus had ever admitted, in his way, to loving.

Remus was too agitated to appreciate the magnitude of Regulus's recovery. All he could see was Severus's arm around his old friend, touching him, Severus's dark eyes full of welcome.

How long had Regulus been awake? Had Severus known? Suddenly every one of Severus's recent late night meetings at the plant or long visits to the north became evidence of an extended tryst with Regulus Black. Fucking Regulus. It had to be him. Regulus was Severus's experiment, his indiscretion, his revenge. Remus was dizzy with understanding.

"It's a miracle, isn't it?" Dora said from his side, and she touched Remus's elbow.

He pulled away violently from her touch. "I have to..." he started, but could not find the words to explain what he had to do. He wanted to tear the damn cane from Regulus Black's manicured hand and bellow at him to leave his home and never return.

"Mr. Lupin?" Dora said in a quiet tone, but he had already moved away from her.

No one but Dora noticed as he sneaked around the edge of the room and out into the front hall, where he then ran at a full sprint up the stairs, taking three steps at a time and pounding his knuckles into the banister. It did not hurt enough; he wanted to break his hand, or the banisters, but neither gave way.

Damn. Damndamndamn.

* * *

_30 April, 1917  
Dear Severus,  
Apologies for my previous letter. I am not always the best judge, and can let my mind run away with itself unless I am attentive.  
Last week I was patrolling our entrenchment, and I came upon two of my men, good, sturdy soldiers, sitting arm in arm, leaning close, eyes closed, cheeks pressed against each other, holding hands. The two men did not see me, and I sneaked away before I disturbed them. You alone perhaps can imagine my thoughts at that moment. I spent a troubled night after, my duties as an officer requiring that I reprimand them, a task I was dreading. The next morning, to my shock, I found them seated in the exact same position, hands entwined, cheek to cheek. This time I was sure to create some small sounds as I approached, and was surprised to see that they did not move away from each other when they became aware of my presence. You see, as they explained to me, they had been making a study of keeping warm during night watch, and their research had produced this intimate embrace as the most effective way to share their warmth with each other. That was the purpose of their touches, and no other- my mind had created all the rest. So you see, my poor brain is not to be trusted, and I hope you can forgive me for that.  
Also, I've been troubled by nightmares all month.  
I miss Mrs. Winky's puddings at Harrow. And there are other things I miss as well.  
Yours, Remus_

* * *

For hours, Remus paced around his rooms like a caged animal. The last image he'd seen of Severus and Regulus, companionably standing together, Severus's arm draped possessively over Regulus's shoulders, was burned into his mind, and played over and over like one of those new, disorienting talking pictures.

Every hair on his body bristled when he heard the tell-tale sounds of Severus finally entering the room next door. He strained to sense if Severus was alone, pressing his ear against their common door and digging his fingernails into the cool wood that separated them.

He was there, beyond the wall, covered in Regulus's touches, Regulus's cool, knowing smiles.

Remus's mind was in a death spiral, and he could feel it the moment he crossed the threshold of control and the room started to close in on him. This sensation had not troubled him since those first horrible months after he'd returned home from France, when, haunted, he would wake up dripping in sweat and temporarily blind, only Severus there to calm him and bring him back to the present. Now, darkness was creeping in on the edge of his vision, and damn, he could smell the iron tang of soil, almost thick enough to choke on.

He knew what he needed when this feeling threatened to overtake him. He didn't need oxygen, and he didn't need space. He needed Severus. Fuck, he'd always needed Severus. What the hell was he doing pretending that he needed anything else?

Remus bashed his shoulder against the door to Severus's rooms, and heard an answering shout of surprise. He slammed into the door until it gave way.

Severus was undressing for bed, his trousers already neatly folded over a chair, his shirt unbuttoned. He had frozen at mid-button and was staring at the doorway where Remus had so violently appeared. Remus's blood surged; Severus was alone and unguarded, and his dark gaze brightened in fear. In a few strides, Remus was on top of him, shoving him up against the wall, a knee pressed threateningly against his crotch, arms pinned at the wrist. Remus was taller, broader, stronger. Severus had no chance.

"What the bloody hell, Lupin?" Severus's eyes were wild.

Remus crushed his mouth against Severus's, feeling his teeth cut flesh and tasting blood, perhaps Severus's, perhaps his own. He pulled back panting, to stare at Severus's familiar face, now flushed and bloodied.

"Does he want you like this?" Remus demanded, his voice ragged. "Does he?"

"Get off..." Remus silenced Severus with another pounding kiss. The darkness was still closing in on him, tunneling his vision and making him desperate.

Severus wrenched his head sideways and ended Remus's assault. "You asked for this, Lupin. You thought something was missing between us. Don't play the victim. You said you fucking _needed_ this." Severus's spittle flew in Remus's face.

"I did!" Remus shouted.

They breathed together for a long moment, eyes locked. Then, without warning, words that had been waiting to be said for five years began to flow out of Remus like a flood.

"We were tunnelers, Severus," he hissed. "That's what we were. Moles. Rats. Six months, six hellish months of digging, every day, through shit and mud and rock and roots." He dug his fingers into Severus's wrists. Severus's breath was coming fast and hard and heating his face. "Long, winding tunnels, large enough for a man, large enough for a mine, large enough to crush you if you were unlucky enough to be in one when it collapsed."

Severus had grown very still while Remus spoke.

"We could see them, you know, the Germans, on clear days. They were tunnelers too, then. Have you ever had to watch a man you're meant to kill later going about his daily business?" Severus was silent. "There was one of them, one officer, who would come out each morning and wash himself, just where I could see him at my post. I could have had him shot any day I liked, he was so careless, but I didn't. I never did that Severus. I never killed that man." Remus dug his knee into Severus thigh, hard enough to hurt him, but Severus didn't flinch.

"I killed someone else." Remus had never said it out loud before, to anyone, and his throat burned to say it. "I was in tunnel seven, and they broke through, we'd dug in the same spot, and there he was. He looked so...surprised and...young, but then he swung his shovel at me, and I remember my hands circling his flesh and squeezing, because if I didn't squeeze, he would get his hands on me, his shovel into me, and we were so deep in that fucking tunnel, Severus. And I killed him, right then." As he spoke, Remus released Severus's wrists and instead ringed his thin throat. Severus didn't move. "He was dead and my hands were still on him, Severus, like this. As though I were a beast, not a man. A bloody beast. They gave me a medal for it. I saved the tunnel." The weight of his secret, the burden of it, he could feel lifting from him as he spoke. His vision cleared.

Severus was trying to pull away, but his eyes were open with something like understanding.

"Why the story time, Lupin?" he asked, bringing his hands up to pull Remus's fingers away from his throat.

"Because," Remus replied, his voice low. "You are mine, Severus Snape, and no one else's, and when that man was breathing his last breath, the first thought I had was that you were the only person who would ever understand what I'd done."

Severus peeled away Remus's fingers, brought his palm to his mouth and licked, and Remus considered through his haze of emotions that that simple gesture might be his forgiveness. He shuddered, the anxiety of the past hours still roiling in him.

"Do I take it you mean that you would like to discontinue our arrangement, then?" Severus asked, licking Remus's lips as he spoke.

Remus felt a growl start in his gut and roll up his chest. A guttural roar was all he managed, before he lunged into Severus, raking hands into his hair, pulling hard, and dragging him towards the bed. Severus struggled and grappled at Remus's chest to regain his balance.

Fabric ripped, and Remus was unsure whose. He bent Severus face down on his tidy bed without ceremony, and Severus moaned as Remus stripped off his remaining clothing in a few motions. Remus grappled open his own trousers. Seeing Severus's thin, white body splayed out before him after so long was too much. He was hard and aching and needed to take Severus, that moment.

"I will erase him from you, Severus," Remus growled, and Severus reached back and pulled Remus against him, digging his fingernails into the back of Remus's thighs.

Neither of them were ready, but neither of them seemed to want to slow down, either. Remus slicked his fingers with spit and rudely prepared Severus, who made hard, animal noises as Remus breached him with his fingers, but whose body drove backwards against the pressure, asking for more. Remus fisted his cock for a moment before he drove into Severus in one thrust, without warning. Severus called out in a throaty mix of pain and pleasure that brought out another deep growl from Remus's core. He slammed into Severus again and again, relishing the raw friction and slap of skin on skin. Severus's fingernails dug deeper into Remus's thighs, surely drawing blood, sharing the pain.

Remus came inside Severus in hard pulses, obliterating the memory of all other men in this base claiming. They belonged to each other. Remus collapsed onto the man in front of him, his softening cock still nestled inside Severus, binding them.

After a moment of quiet breathing, Severus broke the silence. "I killed thousands of men," he said softly. "The chlorine did. Twelve secret trips to the front, through firebombing and sniper fire and fucking hell, to train men in the use of my weapons." Remus breathed in hard. He'd never known. "And they still call me coward."

Remus combed his fingers through Severus's matted, damp hair. "I don't," he replied in a pained voice. He'd never known.

"I was never sure," Severus said in a whisper, "whether you did or not."

"I don't," he said again, and rolled off of Severus, regretting the moment their bodies came apart, but needing to see his lover's face. "You are no coward." He pulled Severus into a slow kiss, soft, demanding his mouth, needing him. A kiss of forgiveness. A new beginning.

They lay together, entwined on the damp sheets, and Remus could no longer fathom why he would ever have wanted to be anywhere else.

After a long silence, Severus pulled back far enough that Remus could see that the corners of his lips were curled up just a touch.

"You fucked the gardener, didn't you?" he asked.

"Under-gardener," Remus corrected. Severus snorted, and drew a long finger across Remus's cheek.

"Lupin, you may be interested to know that I haven't been with Regulus in over eight years." He arched one eyebrow. "But making you think I had was certainly worth it."

Damn. Remus grabbed a pillow and bashed it into Severus's head. "You sneaky bloody scoundrel."

"Indeed."

Remus rolled over onto Severus, pinning him to the bed with a hard kiss. "Damn you, Severus," he murmured against his mouth. "I'm glad to be home."

* * *

_11 August, 1917  
Dear Severus,  
We will be moving away from the front this week, and back to Blighty next month. We are coming home.  
When I say home, I mean you.  
Remus_


End file.
